


Dead Writers and Highwaycats

by Wonderlandleighleigh



Series: The Tuna Melt-verse [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 05:39:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19266928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandleighleigh/pseuds/Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: For my Fluff Bingo Card! The prompt is: "Adopting a Pet." Maggie and Jason handle it like only Maggie and Jason would.





	Dead Writers and Highwaycats

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff Bingo prompt fills may or may not be in continuity with "The Liaison from Wayne Enterprises." Since the fic isn't done, I couldn't tell you. But this should be fun!

A lot of things irritate Jason Peter Todd. It’s a list that has shrunk over the years as he’s found some semblance of routine and reconnected with family, but there are some things that he just cannot get over.

Bruce being a hypocritical trash fire. 

The way Dick will slurp his leftover cereal milk at the breakfast table. 

The Joker.

There is, in fact, one thing that will get him so angry that he’s not sure what to do with himself. He’s technically not supposed to kill people anymore, and punching walls just hurts himself and causes property damage. 

It’s raining in DC, and he’s soaked to the bone, but so are the small kittens in the cardboard box he’s holding. Jason practically kicks in the door to the Humane Rescue Shelter instead of just kicking it open and manages to scare the bejesus out of the three staff members inside: two women and a younger guy, all staring at him, wide-eyed and nervous. 

Jason settles the box on the front desk. “Found ‘em on the side of the highway.” 

The three volunteers get to work quickly, and Jason follows them into the back, standing by the doorway, letting the anger bubble out of him slowly. He makes a note to ask Barb to check security footage on that stretch of road. See if he can’t find the fuckwit who left a box of helpless animals in the rain by the side of the dangerous highway. 

Maybe he won’t kill the guy, but he at least deserves a broken hand. And maybe a bullet in the ass. And maybe a concussion. And maybe-

“Sir?” one of the women asks. “Thank you for bringing them in. You don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to.” 

“They’re gonna be okay?” Jason asks, nodding towards the exam table, where five kittens in various shades of black and brown and gray tabby shakily wander around, mew and cower.

“We’ll take good care of them,” the women tells him. “Despite the rain and being on the road, they seem to be in pretty decent shape, health-wise. No immediate signs of kitten flu, no broken bones. We’ll have to monitor them and do some blood work to get a closer look.” 

“Oh.” 

The woman grins a little. “You wanted to take one home?” 

“No,” Jason snaps. “Maybe. I dunno. The little brown one…” he shrugs. “I don’t have any pets.” 

He’s never really had any pets. Bruce and Damian’s dogs hate him, and as an adult, he’s never stayed in one place long enough to have one of his own.

The woman’s grins shifts to a smile. “I’ll make a note not to put him up for adoption yet. Stop by in a week, and we should have some updates.” 

Jason nods, pushes wet hair back from his face, and heads out.

***** 

Maggie Rogers had turtles growing up.

They were easy to keep up with; quiet, small and fun in an understated kind of way. Maggie had longed for something fluffier, and begged for a bunny, but it was not to be. 

Now, though, she is an adult. She has her own adult apartment that she shares with her very adult boyfriend. 

Who, all evidence to the contrary, is kind of a soft touch.

It’s Friday, and raining when she steps into their DC apartment, shaking out her umbrella before settling it neatly by the door, and slipping out of her boots. “I’m starving!” she calls, knowing that Jason is home from the lights already on in the living room and kitchen. 

“What are you in the mood for?” Jason asks from further inside. 

“Well, I-” Maggie freezes a she hears something skitter around on the floor. “Oh. Oh no. No, no, no, no way tell me we do not have rats!” 

“What?!” Jason snaps. “What are you talking about?” 

“That...something...ran across the floor!” 

“Wh-oh,” he laughs. “Oh. Baby, that’s not rats.” 

Maggie frowns deeply as she walks from the front hallway into the living room, stopping to find an adorable little kitten rolling around on the floor. She stares for a long, long moment, her eyes progressively getting wider and wider the more she watches the kitten. 

“Uh...so...surprise,” Jason shrugs. “Y’know that box of kitten I hauled into the shelter last week?” 

“You mean the box of kittens you saved like the softest hero ever?” Maggie asks, half-teasing.

Jason wrinkles his nose. “This little guy and I had a moment. We uh...we locked eyes when I picked up the box. We had an understanding.” 

“Because you’re the softest boy and you wanted a kitten,” Maggie teases, setting her things down and sitting on the floor next to him, slipping her heels off.

“Must you?” he asks, furrowing his brow,

“I’m done, I promise,” Maggie says, kissing his cheek. “You got us a kitten. What’s his name?” 

“He doesn’t have one yet,” Jason says, looking at the kitten as he stands up on little legs to stalk around and sniff out the living room. “But I’m thinking...Larry.” 

Maggie frowns deeply. “I-Larry? I'm sorry...Larry?” 

“Yeah. Like Larry McMurtry. Y’know. Lonesome Dove. The Last Picture Show.” 

“If we’re naming this cat after a dead writer, we’re definitely naming him Walter Cronkite.” 

Jason wrinkles his nose. “No way.” 

“Well, we’re not naming him Larry Mcmurtry.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

Jason purses his lips. “Edgar Allen Poe?” 

“He’s not even a black cat!” Maggie complains. “You can’t name a non-black cat after Poe.” 

“I mean...you can,” he points out. “What about-” 

“If you say Hemingway, I’m gonna flick you in the nose,” she cuts him off. 

Jason frowns deeply. “This is gonna be harder than I thought.” 

Maggie purses her lips. “Edward R. Murrow?” she suggests hopefully. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “...So that every night before bed, we can look at the cat and say ‘goodnight, and good luck'?” 

“Precisely.” 

“Done deal,” Jason nods. “Edward R. Murrow it is.” 

“Edward R. Meowrrow?” Maggie tries. 

He rolls his eyes, before tackling her to the floor, tickling her. “Why you gotta be so lame?!” 

When she squeaks and giggles, Edward. R. Murrow the cat dashes over and bats at them, his little squeaky meows adding to the chaos.

Maggie just keeps laughing. "Save me, Edward. R. Murrow! You're my only hope!" 

The kitten merely licks Jason's arm.


End file.
